The Young Engineers on the Gulf eBook

“I’ll confess I’m mystified,”
muttered Tom, watching the scene of the latest explosion
for some minutes after the engine had been stopped.
“When daylight comes and we can use the divers
we ought to know a bit more about how such a big blast
is worked in the dead of night when the scoundrels
ought to make noise enough to be heard. It must
have been a series of connected blasts, all touched
off at the same moment, Mr. Renshaw, but even such
a series is by no means easy to lay. And then
the blasts have to be drilled for, and then tamped.”

“As you say, sir,” replied the superintendent,
“a much clearer idea can be formed when we have
daylight and the divers.”

Tom held his watch to one side of the searchlight.

“Nearly two hours yet until daylight, Mr. Renshaw,”
he announced. “And, of course, it will
be two or three hours after daylight before we can
get the divers at work. A fearful length of
time to wait!”

“You’d better go back to the shore, sir,”
urged the superintendent.

“Not while this boat needs to be run,”
objected Reade. “For the rest of the night
I want a man here whom I can trust.”

“Will you trust me with the boat?” proposed
the superintendent.

“Why, of course!”

“Then let me run back to the dock and put you
ashore, Mr. Reade. After that I’ll come
out here and patrol along the wall until broad daylight.”

That was accordingly done. The “Morton”
lay alongside the dock, and Nicolas instantly busied
himself with casting off the rowboat and making her
fast to the pier instead.

Evarts sullenly remained in the boat.

“Come on, Evarts,” spoke Tom quietly.

“Mr. Reade,” expostulated the late foreman,
“I’m not going to be thrown out of my
job like this.”

“Which especial way of being thrown out do you
prefer then?” Tom queried, dryly.

“I’m not going to be put out of my job
until I’ve had at least one good talk with you,”
insisted the foreman.

“I’m afraid the time has passed for talking
with you,” Reade responded, turning toward the
shore. “You lost a great chance, to-night,
to serve the company with distinction, and your negligence
cost the company a lot of money through the second
explosion. Are you coming out of that boat—–­or
shall I come back after you?”

Evarts rose, with a surly air. He stepped slowly
ashore, after which one of the crew cast off.
The engine began to move, and the “Morton”
started back to her post.

“Oh, you feel fine and important, just at this
minute!” grumbled the discharged foreman, under
his breath, glaring wickedly at the broad back of
the young chief engineer. “But I’ll
do something to take the importance out of you before
very long, Tom Reade!”

Truth to tell, Tom, though he was still alert to the
interests of his employers, felt anything but important.
The thought of Harry Hazelton’s unknown fate
caused a great, choking lump in his throat as Reade
stepped from the pier to land.